


Breaking Point

by DjarinsRiduur



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Exhibitionism, F/M, Smut, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:33:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28850637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DjarinsRiduur/pseuds/DjarinsRiduur
Summary: There was a game between you and him that had begun. Of course, you never expected him to take it that far.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin/You
Comments: 6
Kudos: 79





	Breaking Point

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Here I go. Back on my bullshit of Din smut, because why not.

The cantina was crowded, the sounds of instruments were the background music as if mixed with the chatter of people. It became your distraction from what was currently going on. He said the meeting would only last five minutes, that it would be a go in speak to someone and get out. Except now twenty minutes had passed and ten minutes ago he’d placed his hand on your thigh.

Was it funny to him? To see you squirm where you sat, trying to shove his palm off of you. You guessed that it was. That he enjoyed seeing you unable to move, unable to do anything but remain completely still as he pushed his palm higher. At one point you let out a noise of surprise when he tugged on the hem of your pants, which you had to quickly cover with a cough. One loud enough to both revert the attention away from you and make them think you were sick.

Of course, that hadn’t stopped him. The asshole instead decided to continue and play this nonsensical game of- let’s see who breaks first, you or me. He wouldn’t be the first to break. You knew that the second he sat down, legs spread under the table, rifle across his lap, and hand on yours. He was showing you he felt at ease here; he felt comfortable watching you try to maintain your cool.

“Mando,” you hissed under your breath when he undid the button of your pants.

He didn’t pay you any mind, instead asking the man across from you another question. You thanked whatever higher being there was that you were in something akin to a both rather than in a chair at a table.

“Is something wrong?” the man-who’s name you realized you didn’t know-asked you.

Your head shot up to meet his gaze. “Yes.”

Cursing under your breath when you practically shouted it at him, you tried not to focus on the way Mando’s hand began to slip into your pants. The soft feeling of worn leather was what you expected so it seemed only fair that you froze, eyes widening at the feeling of a warm palm. He had taken his glove off in the middle of the cantina, to mess with you. You hated how that made a rush of heat go through you, a new wave of slick leaking into your already damp underwear.

You rested your elbows on the table, leaning forward and covering your mouth with your hands when his finger swiped through your slick. Did you hear him make a groaning sound? Instead of pointing it out you focused on how he shifted where he sat, seeming to hide something other than the rifle on his lap. Fuck he was getting turned on by doing this. By having you vulnerable and at his mercy in the middle of a cantina full of people.

It became harder hiding the small noise you made when he pressed against your clit. Even harder to not grind yourself against his fingers. You hated good it felt, how much you liked this side of him. The one who craved danger in ways you never thought you’d experience. He brought it out in you and you hated how much you loved it.

“What do you say Mando?” the man asked.

Your eyes opened as you tried to pay attention again. Definitely a bad time to start paying attention. He slid two fingers into you knuckle deep and held them there, his thumb still rubbing circles against your clit. The cough you let out covered the moan you tried not to make and you figured people must really think you were sick. You swore you saw a few of them step away from where you sat.

“It sounds like a fair deal,” Mando replied, his voice making you clench around his fingers.

You would bet every last credit you owned that he was smirking underneath that helmet he wore. The meeting seemed to be coming to a close and you expected Mando to withdraw his fingers, call it a day, and finish what he started back on the Crest. So, it came as a shock to you when he sped up the thrust of his fingers, setting a brutal attack on the spot along your walls. Your eyes remained on his helmet, trying your best not to grind down on him.

“I can pay you in full now.” The man slid the credits across the table.

Mando took them, leaning forward, which gave him the opportunity to change the angle of his fingers. Your hand shot down to grip at his wrist, feeling him strike the spot that would destroy you steadily every time with an accuracy only he possessed. Your release was fast approaching, the tightness in your belly ready to snap at any moment.

The man left the table to grab what you assumed was the rest of his credits which left you alone with Mando. The man who was slamming you towards an orgasm that would shake you into next week. His helmet turned to you, tilting down slightly to watch your face as his hand continued its ministrations. You were left unable to say anything, your mouth dropping open with no sounds coming out. If there were sounds, they would be incomprehensible to even him and you knew he’d enjoy it, knew he’d want you to be louder.

“Gonna… cum,” you managed to choke out in a whisper.

His helmet tilted to the side, and if you weren’t on the verge of an earth-shattering orgasm you’d smile and call him cute.

“Good girl,” he said.

That was all it took, two simple fucking words for you to dig your nails into the exposed skin of his wrist and break. A noise you tried to hold back made it sound like you were choking as your walls clamped down on his fingers, your orgasm slamming its way through your body. You tried your best to focus on things around you, but the white-hot feeling of your release hindered you from anything and everything. There was only him, only the feeling of absolute pleasure he gave you. He coaxed you through it, rubbing his thumb along your clit until your legs shook and you couldn’t take anymore.

“Fuck.” You couldn’t get out more even if you tried. The wet sounds of him pulling his fingers out hit your ears and made you shrink in on yourself slightly.

For a second you caught sight of his bare hand, the slick of your release coating his fingers and palm, making heat rush to your face. If it were just you and him on the ship, he’d make you clean his hand, make you lick it off as he watched. Except there was no time. The man had come back with the credits and you were already there for far longer than expected.

Mando instead shoved his hand back into his glove, grabbed the credits offered and turned to you. Thankfully you were able to right your pants again right as he stood out of the booth, waiting for you to follow. The man nodded at you, not taking note of your seemingly hazy look in your eyes from the release you just had. You were also thankful he didn’t notice the way you stood on shaky legs.

There was no room for yelling at him, because in all reality you weren’t mad at him. Mando knew you’d enjoy it and you loathed that he was able to read you that easily. His now gloved hand landed on your lower back as he led you out of the cantina, his helmet tilted down towards you. Between the fading sounds of the music and the chatter you heard his voice hitting your ear.

“I won.” That was all he said, before he took the lead and walked ahead of you. Another two words that had you ready to give yourself over to him again. He had found your breaking point and you knew he’d use it over and over in any way he saw fit, and you knew without a doubt. You’d let him.


End file.
